


well... what do you think?

by Amymel86



Series: Tumblr Prompts [23]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of past abuse, Modern AU, tattoo artist!jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Sansa takes a breath. “I want to... I want to cover something Joffrey did.”





	well... what do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> a little drabble for @and-holly-goes-lightly for the dialogue prompt "well... what do you think?" <3

“Well... what do you think?”

Jon lifts his eyes from the phone screen Sansa had handed him to look at her with furrowed brows. “I thought you didn’t like tattoos?” To be quite honest, even with being the owner of his own tattoo parlour, Jon prefers Sansa’s skin exactly the way it is, with her perfect peaches-and-cream complexion. She doesn’t need any embellishing in his opinion. And she’s never been interested in being inked before now – in fact, he’s pretty sure she’s never even stepped foot inside ‘Black Crow Tattoo Studio’ before today.

“I never said that,” she tells him. “I just didn’t like that one Robb made you do on his back,” she twists her arm up and points over her own shoulder, “you know, the one with the man with the bloody wolf head and arrows all over his body. Mum pitched a fit when she saw it!”

Jon allows himself a low chuckle as he hands back her phone. “I bet she did.” He sobers and licks his lips as he looks at her. “You sure about this?”

“Yes,” Sansa nods resolutely. “I want it to be a mix of the two designs I just showed you,” she waves her phone as if he’d just forgotten, “and I want it...” Sansa pauses, eyes falling to the floor as she fiddles with her phone. “I want...” whatever it is she’s trying to say is obviously difficult.

“Do you wanna come and talk in the back?” Jon asks, rising from his seat behind the register and pointing with his thumb to his work space. Perhaps the privacy will help. Sansa nods and follows him, pushing aside the curtain made of thin strips of black plastic. He seats himself on his roll-along work stool and looks up to her with a soft smile.

Sansa takes a breath. “I want to... I want to cover something Joffrey did.”

Jon’s pulse practically throbs in pain at the mention of that asshole’s name. He’s in prison now for what he had done, but Jon would pay anything to be left alone with the creep so he could show him what he thinks of anyone who would beat a woman – and yes, he means _any_ woman, but when thoughts of someone harming _Sansa_ flit through Jon’s mind, he finds his revenge fantasies turning particularly cruel and murderous. Looking at her now, he’s at a loss as to how anyone could want to touch her with anything but reverence.

Jon swallows down his anger and wheels himself closer. He takes both her hands in his and sweeps his thumbs across the pulse-points of her wrists as he looks up at her. “What did he do?”

Pulling one of her hands away, Sansa lifts the side of her top to show her bare skin beneath. Jon’s eyes widen at the sight of scarring right there at the dip of her waist, flair of her hip and ‘round to the soft skin of her stomach. He raises his hand to touch, gazing up to silently seek permission before he does so. Sansa nods. The marks are small and round, a faded shade of pink that will surely leave silvery white scars in time. That shit-stain of a human did this to her?

“Cigarette burns,” Sansa supplies as Jon continues gently mapping out the constellation of markings with the pads of his fingertips.

She shivers under his touch and his eyes finally rise to meet hers. “_Sansa_,” he croaks, “if-if I could _kill him_ for you, I would. Without hesitation.”

“I know,” she says, smiling. Her hand comes to softly cup his cheek and jaw as he stares up at her, the touch so tender it manages to make Jon’s breath hitch in his throat. Gods, she has a strength that makes her more beautiful than anyone he knows. “Just cover it up for me, though yeah? Get rid of him for me that way.”

Jon nods and catches her hand before she has a chance to pull away. He keeps his gaze locked with hers and places a gentle press of lips to the inside of her wrist, liking the way her mouth parts as she watches him. Jon has never been so bold with Sansa. He’s wanted to be – many a time, but the timing hadn’t been quite right, or his nerves fled him at the last minute. He’s not so sure that now is the right time either to be honest, but he found he couldn’t help himself.

Jon’s gaze returns to the scars on her skin. Moving slowly so that she might stop him should she wish to, Jon presses a gentle kiss to one of the burns on her hip before moving to the next. Sansa’s fingers find their way to his hair and he finds that he very much likes having them there. “Is this alright?” he asks after the third kiss, right next to her bellybutton.

Sansa hums and starts to slowly comb her fingers through his curls, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. “Yes.”

After a time, Jon regretfully decides that he can’t spend the rest of the day tenderly kissing and nuzzling at Sansa’s belly, so he clears his throat and lifts his gaze up to hers, pleased to find her smiling down at him, her hands still in his hair. “So, you want weirwood leaves, right?”

“Yes,” she nods, “curling around my waist and hip and on my tummy too. I want it to look like they’re dancing in a gust of wind.”

“Sounds pretty,” Jon grins up at her. “I can do that.”

“And I want to have some initials written in the veins of some of the leaves.”

“Initials?”

“Yeah. Of people I love. People who are important to me. I don’t want them to be obvious, but kind of hidden, just for me.”

Jon’s hands smooth up and down her hips where she still stands there in front of him. “That’s a great idea. So all your family, yeah?”

Sansa nods her head. “And your initials too... if that’s okay?”

_If that’s okay?!_

“_Sansa,_ that’s... That’s _more_ than okay, sweetheart.” He presses another, albeit quicker kiss to her stomach before looking back up to her shining eyes. “Let me get to work on your design and...” Jon pauses, swallowing down his nerves, “...maybe I could take you out tonight? For dinner?”

Sansa grins down at him. “Like on a date?”

“Yeah, _like on a date.”_


End file.
